


Reading in Autumn Sunlight

by Emsiecat



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Comfort, Consort Bilbo Baggins, Dorks in Love, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Thorin is a Softie, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 08:46:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10460739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emsiecat/pseuds/Emsiecat
Summary: (Yes, yes, that title sucks, my apologies :P)Some time ago the wonderful french-unicorn created a lovely piece of Bagginshield artwork which was posted on tumblr, (here: http://frenchuniart.tumblr.com/post/149967192261/and-i-swear-to-god-it-was-the-gayest-thing-ive ). Upon seeing the gorgeous lighting and snuggly dorks portrayed in the piece, I couldn't help but be inspired to write a short ficlet based on the picture.I decided recently that I was quite pleased with it and wanted to share it with you all on here as well.With french-unicorn's kind permission, I have included the artwork for context, but please do visit their original post linked above and send it some love.Enjoy!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [french-unicorn](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=french-unicorn).



Summer was over.

The lingering warmth from those long, languorous days were steadily replaced with opaline skies and bracing winds which brought with them the threat of the first frosts of winter to Erebor.

Autumn came quickly here, Bilbo found. Nipping at summer’s heels like an exuberant pup, russet hued with a cold, sharp bite.

And winter cloaked in white was never far behind.

However, these days where dew shone upon the grass and gossamer twined between the stems like strands of finest mithril would find Bilbo enjoying the fresh air before the slopes of the mountain as often as he was able.

Bilbo loved this time of year. Crisp leaves, the smell of the earth after an impromptu rainstorm, the waving long grasses and drooping flower heads, coupled with the promise of fruits from the few trees that had been persuaded to grow in the short years since the restoration, oft brought Bilbo out into the once desolate landscape.

The sunlight too was enticing; Bilbo thought as he closed his eyes against the play of golden light through the leaves and stretched his arms above his head with a grin. Not too hot, nor yet the weak, watery light of midwinter, too distant and chill to warm the earth below.

This was perfect, and Bilbo fully intended to make the most of it before someone was sent to look for him and interrupted his solitude.

Flopping down onto the dewy grass, Bilbo cared not one whit that his clothes would be soaked and instead opened the book he had brought with him. Flipping through to find his place, he made sure to keep the book itself carefully settled upon his knees (his clothes were one thing, they would dry; but he would rather not risk incurring Ori’s wrath by ruining a book).

It had not been as hard as he had imagined, to give up the Shire for a new home here, Bilbo mused as he ran a forefinger over the pages of his book to locate the right line. Really, he had not thought of Hobbiton much at all once Thorin and his nephews were healed. He missed Bag End of course and the memories there of his parents, and so too did he miss the company of a handful of his relatives. However, measures had been taken to make the hobbit feel at home here. Not least of all was the fact that they had actually decorated his and Thorin’s shared rooms in the likeness of a smial, and of course the dwarves of Thorin’s Company were fast becoming as close a family as Bilbo could ever wish for.

It helped, he supposed, that he had been given work to do in those first years following Erebor’s reclamation. Whilst a hobbit would know little of carving stone or forging metal, they _did_ know plenty about green and growing things. True, Bilbo could not claim to be quite as adept at gardening as some of his old neighbours, but he was comfortable enough around most plants and flowers to spearhead the regrowing project of the lands surrounding Erebor and Dale.

The elves (though Thorin would probably be loathe to admit it), had been a wonderful help in that regard. The men of Dale too had offered their aid (though hailing from a town whose primary trade was fishing did mean they needed a little guidance), and even some of the dwarves had pitched in whenever Bilbo required more hands.

That had been nearly five years ago, and now the wastes before Erebor were close to flourishing. There were still patches of barren land here and there, and it would naturally take a few more years for a substantial amount of the trees to attain their full height, but overall the result was pleasing, and Bilbo could allow himself a small amount of pride in this accomplishment.

Bilbo sighed; a contented, happy sound, and began to read the book of dwarvish tales Ori had loaned him.

 

* * *

 

Bilbo was nearing the end of the tome in his lap when his concentration was finally broken. He was unsure quite how much time had past, but it was clear from the rustling of the long grass at his back that someone else was approaching his little hideaway amongst the greenery, most likely to request he return to the mountain for some reason or another.

It was a pleasant surprise then, when the familiar timbre of his husband’s voice reached his ears in greeting, warm breath gusting against his cheek as Thorin settled himself behind Bilbo without preamble and wrapping his arms firmly around him, nuzzling at his temple.

“You were missed at luncheon, _Amrâlimê.”  
_

“Oh, I’m quite sure you were all glad to be rid of me for a while, more food for you all.” Bilbo grinned, leaning back into Thorin’s embrace.

“Hm, true… _I_ missed you though.”

“Soppy thing… Wait, just how late is it?”

Bilbo blinked in surprise, his eyes taking in the lengthened shadows surrounding them and the glow of the sun clearly lower than when he had last had the presence of mind to check.

Thorin chuckled, the sound of it warm and fond as it reverberated through Bilbo’s back. “You really were lost in your tales. The afternoon bell tolled four a short time ago.”

“I missed luncheon _and_ afternoon tea?” Bilbo was aghast. It was quite unbecoming of a hobbit to miss _two_ meals in a row without good cause… He really must have been ensnared by his book then, not to notice the gurgle of his own stomach.

Bilbo had turned as best he could in order to look at Thorin properly, only to be struck by just how handsome he looked in this light. The setting sun had cast his face in shadow but highlighted the silver in his hair beautifully. He had loosely braided it today, the rope of it hanging over his shoulder, and the scent of hot metal and smoke lingering on the dwarf’s skin suggested he had probably visited the forges earlier.

He was wearing shades of blue that suited him well, and Bilbo reached out to catch the edge of a tunic sleeve between his thumb and forefinger, admiring the feel of the soft fabric for a moment before speaking. “Is this new?”

“Hm, fairly, more than I can say for your coat, _Ghivashel_.”

Thorin’s voice was light and teasing, and Bilbo rolled his eyes even as he snuggled against Thorin’s warmth.

Bilbo had chosen to wear the same coat he had been given upon their arrival to Laketown five years ago. He had his reasons for choosing to wear it today; in part because the weather was not yet cold enough to warrant him wearing his thicker, fur lined coats or cloaks. It also proved useful as sitting amongst wet grass and leaves tended to leave clothing stained, and honestly this particular coat had been subjected to and survived far worse than grass and mud in its time, and so Bilbo had felt no fear in the cloth being ruined by something as insignificant as this.

Thorin’s head was canted to one side as he scrutinised the coat Bilbo wore, something like realisation stealing over his features.

“You wore this one when we first arrived, did you not?”

“Yes…”

Thorin’s brow had furrowed in thought, and Bilbo knew why Thorin seemed so confused. The dragon sickness had begun to affect Thorin even as far back as Laketown, the first small changes in his behaviour apparent even then.

The dwarf had once confided to Bilbo that many of his memories, from Laketown and right up until the moment he broke free of the dragon’s thrall were blurred and fragmented. Confusing, and horror filled things they were, that Thorin had both tried to push from his mind and keep close so that he may never again repeat those mistakes.

“Does wearing it not remind you of more troubling times?”

Thorin’s question was spoken casually, but Bilbo could see the slightly pinched expression he wore as the dwarf king let his fingers play over the threadbare velvet brocade. Should he get rid of the coat perhaps?… He would so hate to bring back bad memories for Thorin.

“Sometimes it does, yes. Mostly though, wearing it just reminds me of how lucky I am that I am still here… that we are _all_ still here, and that the quest was a success in the end.”

There was a soft huff of a laugh from Thorin at that, and Bilbo was relieved to see the shadow fade from Thorin’s eyes as he leaned in to kiss his cheek.

“Well then, that cannot be a bad thing at all… though I think the cuffs and collar _were_ originally supposed to be white.”

It was Bilbo’s turn to laugh as he picked at the tatty fringe of the coat’s sleeve and shook his head. “Unfortunately yes, they probably were. The poor old thing has been through a lot. Still, it’s pretty useful when I want to sit on wet grass and not worry about ruining my good clothes… and speaking of which-”

Bilbo gave his husband a very pointed look. He was still ensconced behind him in much newer, finer clothes than an old coat and breeches.

Thorin snorted, guessing the gist of Bilbo’s disapproval and in one swift move had lain back in the grass, pulling Bilbo to sprawl atop him. “I could care less about the state of clothes when I have you near.”

“I’ll be sure to tell the laundry staff you said that,” Bilbo grinned, lightly pinching Thorin’s side and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Then they can drag you down there to work a few shifts with them and you’ll surely care about the state of clothes after that.”

“If you’re so worried about my clothes I could always take them off-”

“Don’t you bloody dare! We’re out in the middle of a field, and it’s getting cold!”

“Ah, I’m sure we’d be warm soon enough-”

Thorin’s laughter carried over the field at Bilbo squawked at his lascivious grin and smacked Thorin soundly with his book in revenge.


End file.
